“Why, you see, you have surely done me a very great service.”
“Meanin’ because I found ye th’ murderer.”
“Murderer?” exclaimed Ravenslee, staring.
“Why, yes—there ‘e is!” and the old man pointed a long finger at the shrinking Spike.
“Old Un,” said Ravenslee, shaking his head, “don’t joke with me—”
“I—I ain’t jokin’, Guv,” cried the Old Un, rising. “Why—oh, Lorgorramighty, you don’t mean t’ say as this ain’t ‘im? Why, ‘e ‘s confessed, Guv; I ‘eard ‘im!”
Ravenslee smiled gently and shook his head again.
“But he has been sick, Old Un; he was hurt, you know, when he saved my life.”
“But, Lord, Guv, if ‘e ‘s confessed—”
“He has been sick, Old Un, and when we are sick the wisest of us are apt to say silly things—even I did, so they tell me.”
“What?” quavered the old man, “ain’t I—ain’t I found no murderer for ye, arter all, Guv?”
“You’ve done something much, very much better, Old Un—you’ve found me my brother!”
“Brother!” echoed Spike, “brother? Oh, Geoff—” he sighed deeply, and as Ravenslee crossed toward him he smiled wanly and sank swooning into the supporting arms of the Spider, who at a word from Hermione bore the boy up-stairs; but scarcely was he laid upon his bed than he opened his heavy eyes.
“Say, Spider,” said he wearily, “old Geoff sure does play square—even to a worm like me—well, I guess! No, don’t go yet, I want yer to hear me try to explain the kind o’ dirty dog I been—I guess he won’t want t’ call me ‘brother’ after that; no, siree, he’ll cut me out same as you have an’ serve me right too.” Then turning toward where Ravenslee and Hermione stood he continued: “Geoff—Hermy, dear—ah, no, don’t touch me, I ain’t worth it. I’m too dirty—Spider says so—an’ I guess he’s right. Listen—I meant t’ go away t’day an’ leave you because I felt so mean, but th’ old man followed me, an’ I couldn’t run because my arm pained some—y’ see, I fell on it. So I let him bring me back because I guess it’s up t’ me t’ let you know as I ain’t fit t’ be your brother, Geoff—or Hermy’s.” For a moment Spike paused, then with an effort he continued but kept his face averted. “Geoff, it was me—in the wood that time! Yes, it was me, an’ I had a gun. I—I meant—t’ do you in, Geoff—”
Spike’s voice failed and he was silent again, plucking nervously at the sheet, while Hermione’s proud head drooped and her hands clasped and wrung each other in an agony of shame; but to these painfully rigid hands came another hand, big and strong yet very gentle, at whose soothing touch those agonised fingers grew lax and soft, then clung to that strong hand in sudden, eager passion.
“Poor old Spike!” said Ravenslee, and his tone was as gentle as his touch.
“But—but, Geoff,” stammered the boy. “I—oh, don’t you see? I meant to—kill you?”
“Yes, I understand; you thought I deserved it—why?”
“Oh, I was crazy, I guess! Bud told me lies—an’ I believed him—lies about you an’ Hermy—he said—you’d make Hermy go—the same road—little Maggie Finlay went—so I came t’ kill you—”
“Spike, if you believed that, if you really believed that, I don’t blame you for trying a shot—”
“But I didn’t—I couldn’t! When I saw you sittin’ there so unsuspectin’, I just couldn’t do it—I tried to, but I couldn’t. An’ somehow I dropped th’ gun, an’ then I heard a shot, an’ when I looked up I saw you throw out your arms an’ fall—my God, I’ll never forget that! Then I saw Bud starin’ down at you an’ th’ pistol smokin’ in his hand. I meant t’ do it but I couldn’t, so Bud did it himself. I’m as bad as him, I reckon, but it was Bud shot you—Soapy saw him an’ knows it was Bud—ask Soapy. An’ now I’ve told you all; I guess I ain’t fit t’ stay here any longer.”
Spike’s voice choked upon a sob, he buried his face in the pillow, and so there fell a silence—a strange, tense hush, a pause so unexpected that he looked up and saw that Hermione’s head was bowed no longer, but she stood, very proud and tall, gazing upon her husband, and in her eyes was a great and wondrous light; and as she looked on him so he gazed on her. They had no thought, no eyes for Spike just then, wherefore he hid his face again.
“I guess this about puts the kybosh on th’ brother business!” he sighed miserably, “an’ I sure ain’t fit t’ be th’ Spider’s pal, I reckon!”
But now the Spider spoke, rather quick and jerkily:
“Say, Kid—get onto this! I’m takin’ back—everything I says t’ you t’day, see? Because, oh, well—I guess you’ve sure woke up at last! So, Kid—give us your mitt!”
Eagerly Spike grasped the Spider’s big fist, and they shook hands gravely and very deliberately, looking into each other’s eyes the while. Then, still quick and jerkily, the Spider turned and hurried out of the room. Then Spike turned to Ravenslee.
“Geoff,” he sighed, “I’m not goin’ to ask you to forgive me yet, I can’t—I’m goin’ t’ wait an’ show you—”
But as he paused Ravenslee’s hand was upon the lad’s drooping shoulder.
“Arthur,” said he, “from now on—from to-night—you are going to be my brother more than ever—a brother we shall both be proud of—what do you say?”
But Spike’s eyes were wet, his mouth quivered, and instead of answering he buried his face in the pillow again.
“Say, Hermy,” he mumbled, “take him away before I do th’ tear-gushin’ act! Take him down-stairs—give him a drink—light him a cigarette—kiss him! Only take him away before I get mushy. But, say—when I’m in bed, you’ll— you’ll come an’—say good night like—like you used to, Hermy dear?”
Swiftly she stooped and kissed that curly head.
“I’ll come—oh, I’ll come, boy, dear!” she murmured, land left him with Mrs. Trapes.
Down-stairs the fire glowed, filling the room with shadows, and side by side they stood looking down into the
